Her dry sense of humour had wilted
Like a single flower in the Sahara
She’d hidden the evidence of torrid affairs
Behind crow’s feet carved in mascara
 
He’d shaken the truth from the tree
Watched the fruit of deceit as it fell
She’d carved her name with a six-inch blade
In his heart where she knew him so well
 
This one is for the day that she leaves
When she’s lost all she had and can then start to grieve
This one is only played at goodbyes
When the saddest of tears flow from prettiest eyes
 
The band of gold slipped from her hand to her neck
Leaving fingerprints matching his grip
Alone in a pub with a tonic for love
He let the last of his memories slip
 
He’d roam from bar to bar at night
Seeking solace in whiskey and gin
Your dinner’s in the oven, the letter had said
And the memories are left in the bin
 
You won’t hear this played on the radio
As it’s especially for the day when she’s left
This song’s only played when you’re lonely at night
When your life was the victim of theft
 
They’d scrubbed each other out of their diaries
And scratched each other’s names from their lists
They laughed if they talked of the time that they shared
Keeping count of the punches that missed.